Comprehensive network wizard, magic emperor.

Chapter 314 The War to Annihilate Mortals

Wherever the Cult of Miracles went, city after city broke free from the clutches and captivity of the will to fight.

Officials conscripting soldiers from among the youth were bound by angry young people and tied to flagpoles or hung from riverbanks. The public chanted slogans of "safety first," besieged government buildings, and demanded the release from military service so their children, already deployed to the battlefield and front lines, could return. The military and police forces, who were supposed to suppress public opinion, remained holed up in their camps, ignoring orders from their superiors.

Some small countries, already sparsely populated and poorly equipped, immediately lost their fighting capacity after being visited by the Cult of Miracles, and had effectively withdrawn from the military alliance.

This trend spread faster than carriages and horses, reaching the bountiful continent thanks to the increasing popularity of radios.

In towns and cities of countries that have yet to witness a miracle, the unrest is even more acute, with prisons overflowing with traitors and gunfire driving away street protests.

The priests of the Five Gods Orthodox sect were extremely pessimistic. On the one hand, they refuted heresy and demanded that the people not believe in false doctrines and obey government orders. On the other hand, they accelerated their pace of accumulating wealth.

The monks of Stone Tower Town were renowned throughout the world, which resulted in them being regarded as the number one enemy by border inspectors from various countries.

"The medicine can be taken in, but the person cannot."

The border guards were as hard as rocks when faced with the diplomats of the Kening Empire and the saints and monks of the Miracle Walkers.

The young religious member wanted to speak up and offer advice, but was stopped by his companion. The diplomat and the spy whispered a few words to each other.

The diplomat then handed over a heavy brown paper bag. The prosecutor quietly opened the bag and was dazzled by the golden light. His stiff expression vanished, and he silently let the officer through without signing any clearance documents.

These illegally arrived priests were met with thunderous applause from the crowd. All police officers and officials who wanted to arrest and expel them were pushed aside by the tightly packed crowd, and the security guards who offered to escort them and the official accommodations they were offered were politely declined.

The Cult of Miracles has been able to move forward on the treacherous continent of Bountiful by relying on the unity of its people.

The light blue banner fluttered like a vibrant wave, remaining gleaming and clean despite being bathed in dust and wind on the vehicle roof. It crossed the streets and stopped in front of churches in various places. The orthodox clergy of the Five Gods cried out and cursed, unable to withstand the power of the miracle, and fled in fear towards the Holy See of the Holy Kingdom of Xinwei.

The old priest occupied the church and preached loudly to the throngs of city and town residents, refuting the wars that were taking place in the world. He argued that these wars were unjust wars of aggression and colonization waged by powerful figures from various countries, who disregarded the suffering caused by rampant epidemics and the people's livelihoods, and who, for their own greed and personal gain, used the pretext of national honor to launch these wars.

With each word he spoke, the crowd responded with cheers; his words were like a raging storm that stirred up waves.

The old priest proclaimed that miracles would bring an end to war, save all from suffering, redeem all sins, wipe away all tears, and that righteous people who believe in miracles will find peace in God's kingdom after death.

His use of all religious rhetoric, coupled with the arcane magic performed in public by the Lighthouse Apprentices, is the most powerful evidence in the world.

When more than forty out of a hundred people firmly believe in miracles, the remaining forty wavering will follow, and the last twenty unbelievers will be swept along.

For a long time, the powerful and priests have used the name of the five gods to tame the people and exploit them for money. Now, the incarnation of the five gods has descended to earth to exercise His authority and take over everything in the world.

How can those in power who comfortably enjoy their riches not feel terrified and fearful?
Newspapers around the world can no longer ignore this ideological hurricane.

The front page headlines are filled with smears, slander, and intimidation, describing the miracle monks as a group of devils who will defile the souls of those who see them and prevent them from ascending to the Kingdom of God after death. They are said to have committed numerous evil deeds, plundering wealth along the way, poisoning the minds of young people, and that the potions they distribute will worsen the epidemic, causing patients to vomit blood and die.

However, as the miracle drew closer, the headlines in newspapers around the world gradually changed.

From "The Cannibalistic Demon is Approaching the Border," to "The Heretics of Kening Have Corrupted a City," then "Miraculous Elixirs Are Healing the Plague Patients," followed by "The Followers of Miracle Walkers Are Marching Towards the Capital," and finally "The Glory of the Great Five Gods Descends Upon the World."

Without a doubt, this is a bloodless war of faith.

Everything was like a replica of the journey around the Sail Islands. People following the miracle drove their carriages and horses, following closely from one city to another, and even squeezing into the territory of other countries.

People from opposing nations and hostile countries are now gathered in this grand migration, much like the sacred expeditions that have taken place in history, where soldiers from various religious states crossed plains and mountains to fight heresy.

However, the soldiers on this expedition are not wearing armor or carrying swords. They are mostly unarmed civilians carrying only a small amount of dry food and travel expenses. They receive donations and supplies from local believers in each place they arrive at before they can continue their journey.

On the twentieth day after the Tower Guardians arrived on the Bountiful Continent, their wagons entered the territory of the Gott Empire, which was in a state of war.

An officer once suggested using artillery to shell and execute the group, then falsely claiming they had been caught in the crossfire and died. However, the people from various countries who had come with the Cult of Miracles remained gathered, and no single artillery formation could guarantee the complete annihilation of tens of thousands.

Kening Dragon could sense Gort Dragon's unease and reported truthfully to the mage: "It is very anxious because of fear, fear of your messenger. But at the same time, it is also looking forward to your arrival. Please don't push it too hard, my dear. After all, it is a bloodthirsty creature and is at war with another dragon. Dragon wars are always cruel and bloody, and anything that might reduce its chances of winning will be attacked."

The armies of Goth and Wilma have amassed a large force, occupying both banks of the Rhinoceros River during its high-water season, exchanging artillery fire across the wide expanse of water. All bridges across the river have been destroyed, and any pontoon bridges that are built are destroyed within hours. The fighting between the two sides has reached a fever pitch, and allied forces from both military groups are also joining the fray.

In contrast, Gott's allies were intervened in by the Cult of Miracles early on, and their reserves were severely insufficient. Their chances of winning were decreasing rapidly, so they were willing to invest more troops at all costs in an attempt to advance the front line.

The turning point of the war came on the fifteenth day, as the corpses piled up on the riverbed formed a dam, greatly slowing the flow and causing the water level to drop, making it possible to wade across even without building a pontoon bridge.

On this very day, at dawn, thick fog enveloped the riverbanks, leaving both sides shrouded in mist.

A group of black-clad priests, carrying banners, entered the battlefield from the west. They trudged through the soft, damp soil cleared by artillery fire, and arrived at the camp of the Gote forces.

"Who allowed you to come in?!" the commander roared in fury.

News from the rear did not reach the front lines, and the soldiers were unaware that their parents and loved ones were trying to end the war and call them back to their side.

The brave and glorious warriors and believers lay expressionless in the trenches, living among rats that ate human flesh, defecating in jars, unfastening their leggings in the rain, taking off their shoes and socks, and warming their pale, swollen feet with candles. The wounded lay groaning for hours before falling silent, letting out loud cries before dying, calling out "Mama" a few times, then falling still. Many more wounded remained lying there, still groaning.

It was at this moment that the black-clad monks arrived, carrying banners. They persuaded the commander, claiming they could end the war.

The commander hesitantly agreed to let them pass. He allowed the monks to carry medicine, help the wounded, feed them herbal remedies, and hold the hands of the dead to pray for them.

Several hours later, the monks traversed the trenches, reassured the soldiers of the Gott and allied nations, and then headed towards the misty riverbank. The light blue banner fluttered like a small bird, gradually disappearing into the fog as the soldiers watched.

The commander heard the soldiers and adjutants chanting scriptures and doctrines, while the radio broadcast orders to eliminate these monks immediately before they joined the civilians, ensuring that not a single one was left alive.

The commander typed a reply, received the order, and resolutely carried it out.

But he still hesitated in the end.

Suddenly, dark figures appeared in the thick, hazy fog, staggering as they surged in like a silent tide.

The soldiers on the front lines shouted that the enemy was charging at them.

The machine guns opened fire, but the shadowy figures did not fall.

When a strong wind suddenly blew away the thick fog that had been covering the battlefield, the soldiers on both sides of the river saw figures walking towards them, each wearing military uniforms, their bodies broken and soaked in water.

The gunfire ceased.

The corpses that had fallen into the Rhinoceros River stood up again. Some of them were already extensively decomposed, their bodies swollen and grotesque, with only their military uniforms remaining as identifiers.

The dead marched toward the living.

But it wasn't a massacre. They came to the front lines of both sides, lay down quietly, and waited for their comrades to collect them and send them home.

A light blue banner fluttered on the once-rushing Rhinoceros River, and the monks stood on the water without sinking. The old priest's voice resonated for miles around, ordering all the soldiers to lay down their weapons and gather on the riverbank.

Soldiers from sixteen countries defied the officer's orders and gathered on both sides of the river as instructed.

The surging water was now as smooth as a mirror. Soldiers from both camps carefully stepped onto the water, staring at their opponents with hatred and ferocity, and at the cultivators with fear and apprehension.

“The God is here,” said the old priest. “Do not wage war again. I speak for the God, commanding you to abandon hatred, to refrain from evil and murder, and to gather the remains of your comrades and return them to their homes.”

The commanders of both armies bowed their heads in submission. Faced with such immense power, the wars of mortals were but dust.

The monks stayed on the battlefield for a day, tending to the wounded and chanting sutras for the dead. The soldiers no longer obeyed the nobles who had sent them to the battlefield; these poor children clung tightly to the cult of miracles.

This was the eighteenth day since the start of the war. The already turbulent situation suddenly came to a standstill, all military operations were forced to stop, and the world's dominant powers fell silent.

The clergy from the Sail Islands traversed the Gott and Wilma Empires, crushing the flames of war, before stepping into the territory of the Holy Kingdom of Sinvi and heading straight for the heartland of the Five Gods' orthodoxy: the Papacy.

(End of this chapter)